


Kyle I

by StAnni



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 06:01:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16696828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StAnni/pseuds/StAnni
Summary: With time he knows that the drinking will become a problem that will leak into their inner world.  With time he knows that these random nights will not be enough for him anymore, he will need her to stay, to commit.  Right now, though, she gasps as he flips them over, moves against her tightly and bites at her neck as she drags her nails down his back.  Right now, that can wait.





	Kyle I

Bruce opens the door to his penthouse and Selina smiles, guiltily – a hand in her curls, the other steadying herself against the wall. “Too late for the party?” she asks and Bruce watches her with an expression he forces to be without judgment. “You said you were working.” Selina shrugs and slips past. “I was, before.” Bruce can smell something strong, might be whiskey and he closes the door behind her. When he turns around he has already lost her – a trail of her clothing leading to his bedroom. He sighs and starts to pick up the mess. When he gets to the room she is under the covers, naked and flipping through channels. “I’ll take the guest room” he offers and she gives him a sad-puppy look “You’re not cuddling with me?”  
It used to be that he didn’t see her drunk at all, not to mention often. These days, it is more the norm than the exception and he shake his head. “Get some sleep.”

He is genuinely happy though when he hears her clattering around in the kitchen the next morning. Usually she leaves without saying a word. She breaks an egg into a pan and, for someone whom he doesn’t even think own a pan, is pretty good at whipping up some scrambled eggs. He sees that his shirt, the one that he had taken off after the party and thrown over the chair, barely covers her rear as she leans over the counter to slide the salt over to him. She catches him and playfully slaps his smile “You missed out last night.” She says and he raises his eyebrows, used to the Selina-level of flirting “Yeah? Can you remember anything from last night? Maybe you missed out.” She laughs and sits on the table, picking at his eggs with a fork as he eats. “How was the party?” she asks, and it is honest, light. “It was okay, wish you were there, though. You used to be the birthday party” He teases. And all of it, all of it is true. She shrugs and her curls shift slightly on her shoulders, her hair has gotten long and he knows it will only be a matter of weeks before she hacks it off again. He runs a finger around a curl and she flicks his hand away. “Now you have more people at a party than I even knew in my life.” She says before she licks the tip of her finger.

He cleans the mess she made in the kitchen and listens to her rummage around in the bathroom before taking a long shower. When she is done she doesn’t come out and he finds her on his sloppily made bed reading a financial paper – dressed, again, in his dirty shirt. “What are you doing?” He smiles and leans down next to her. She reads out loud, some disconnected sentence on the page and he takes the paper from her. “Don’t mock my interests, Selina” he warns her lightly and she pffts at him, and reaches for the remote again. “What do you even do here cooped up on a Saturday anyway?” she states blankly as she flips aimlessly through the channels again. “It’s nine, Selina. Most people are still asleep.” He says, leaning back against the pillows next to her. He glances at her and she flaps the rise of the pillow away with a smile “What is it like to be my age?”, a smile that is irresistible.  
He pulls her wrist to his mouth, and kisses it. “Like it usually does. For a full two months I feel like I’m not a boytoy.” He teases and she pulls her wrist away, smacking his cheek, he catches it again though and holds her hand, pulling her closer to him.  
“I need that shirt back at some point, Selina.”  
She raises and eyebrow and he whispers against her mouth “Take it off.” She sighs against his lips and smiles, before undoing the buttons one by one “You’re extremely selfish, Bruce.”

Like this, the two of them, alone – they are good together, they are good for each other. He knows that. Like this, with her whether she is complaining about the puffiness of his pillows or moaning with abandon as she straddles him, like this they are good. She knows that too. But the moments outside, the times when they are not able to gauge each other constantly, when other people cloud their particular rhythm, that is where they lose each other, that is where there are arguments and drunken fights, jealousy and both of them tearing at the hearts of the other. That they both know as well.

With time he knows that the drinking will become a problem that will leak into their inner world. With time he knows that these random nights will not be enough for him anymore, he will need her to stay, to commit. Right now, though, she gasps as he flips them over, moves against her tightly and bites at her neck as she drags her nails down his back. Right now, that can wait.

Afterwards she falls asleep with her curls splayed on his chest and he counts the scars on her shoulder softly as she murmurs “Boytoy.”

He wakes up at noon and the bed is expectedly, but still disappointingly empty. His shirt, crumpled and stills lightly damp from the sweat of their morning lies half on the bed, half off.   
When he brings it to his nose he can smell her hair, her neck – knowing that in a few hours even her scent won’t linger anymore.


End file.
